by Abigail Owen
“What do you want us to do with him?” Calli asked.
“I don’t care.” Leia trudged back out of the water, inexplicably exhausted. Kaios’s death, and her revenge, had been a long time coming. Most of the time, she’d doubted this moment would ever arrive. Now that it had, other than knowing he couldn’t hurt anyone else, she just didn’t care.
She flopped down at the edge of the pond, her clothes once more dry as a bone. The fight up by the cabin must’ve wound down, because the sounds of the battle no longer rang through the trees.
“What will you do?” Calli asked.
Leia considered the last thing Castor had been saying to her when Kaios appeared.
“I don’t know.”
“What about Castor?”
Leia ran a hand over her face. “Do you think there’s a chance for a son of Zeus and a failed nymph?”
“I think love is worth trying for.”
“I’m not worthy of his love.”
Calli floated out of the water, her own diaphanous dress of white drifting in the breeze, also instantly dry. Her sister sat beside her and took her hand. “We weren’t worthy of your love. I should have been there for you. We should have supported you all these years. We’re family.”
Leia blinked away unwanted tears. “I always understood.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Calli wrapped her arms around Leia’s shoulders. “You are worthy, sweetie. The question is, is he worthy of you?”
Chapter Seventeen
“Lyleia, can you come in here, please?” Castor’s deep voice sounded on the intercom on her desk.
She frowned at the tone to his voice, one that didn’t seem quite right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he sounded almost…nervous. She didn’t like it. What had those gods been saying to him?
After the fight with Kaios, Castor had taken them both home to Austin. While he had once again insisted on sitting beside her on the flight, he’d been surprisingly quiet during the trip, and he hadn’t brought up their earlier conversation. For once, Leia had no clue what to say, so she hadn’t said anything either. Back home, he’d driven her to her apartment.
He hadn’t come in. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I need to arrange something. After that I’d like us to have a talk, but it might take me a day or two to wrap up this other thing. Will you wait—don’t make any plans or run off again—until then?”
“We can’t talk now?” Despite her long life, waiting now would be awful.
He gazed at her with a strange urgency. “No. This other thing needs to happen first.”
She’d frowned but agreed.
“Come into the office like normal tomorrow,” he’d said.
Even weirder, but okay. He escorted her to her door, which had a fresh coat of paint and a gleaming new lock. She raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged. “I may have broken your door the day you left.”
He’d been that desperate? She shook her head, holding back a smile. “You and that god complex of yours, Superman.”
He chuckled, then leaned down and feathered a ghost of a kiss across her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She’d watched, confused and lost, as he walked away, hands stuffed in his pockets, head bowed. Something was seriously wrong with Castor. Was he regretting those words to her in the glen? Their nights together? His kiss gave her a small amount of hope that regret wasn’t his issue. But if it wasn’t, what was?
Those questions had kept her up half the night. Her apartment, usually a place of comfort for her, had been more like a cage, and time her enemy as she waited for whatever came next.
Then this morning, she’d come into the office as requested, both eager to see him and dreading how he’d treat her. Castor was already there, the door closed between them. She resisted the temptation to barge in and demand what was up with him. He’d asked for her trust. So, curiosity and a need to be with him dragging at every action, she’d forced herself to get down to the usual routine, checking through a week’s worth of emails from her absence.
Around nine a.m., two gods she’d recognize anywhere had shown up in her office—Zeus and Poseidon.
The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as pure power pulsed through the room. Contrary to popular movies, they didn’t wear long robes and sport gray beards. Nymphs had a hard time resisting gods for a reason, and the power they exuded, a strong aphrodisiac by itself, wasn’t the only draw. Both appeared as young men, in their early thirties at most. Like their demigod offspring, both had broad shoulders, trim hips, and likely sported six-packs under those immaculate suits. Romanticized images of the perfect male body got the original blueprint from these immortals. Both were devastatingly handsome, though Zeus was dark—black hair, deep brown eyes—where Poseidon was fair—blond hair and green eyes.
They did nothing for her.
Leia sent Poseidon a hate-filled glare, then moved her gaze to Zeus, head held high. “May I help you?”
“We have an appointment with my son,” Zeus said, his voice a rumbling roll of thunder.
So that’s where Castor got his sexy, deep tones from.
“Come on in, Dad,” Castor called from his office.
The gods gave her a polite nod before entering Castor’s office, closing the door behind them. They’d been in there about an hour before Castor had called her in. Now, she smoothed the slim skirt of her deep red suit over her hips and checked the V of the jacket, which showed just enough cleavage. She’d forgone a blouse underneath this morning when she’d dressed, determined to remind Castor what he was missing. With a soft click, she opened the door and the three men all standing together in front of Castor’s modern glass desk turned to face her.
Castor’s expression gave nothing away. Damn, he looked amazing in her favorite black suit and maroon tie. With effort, she pulled her gaze away. Zeus appeared amused, if the quirk of his lips was anything to go by. Poseidon she refused to look at again. She might do something stupid like try to drown the god of the oceans with the water in the bottle on her desk.
That was until he crossed the room to stand before her, surrounding her in a cloud of salty sea air.
“Kaios caused a lot of problems for you.”
She raised her eyebrows pointedly, and he held up his hands. “Granted, I was part of the situation. Now he’s dead, I would like to make amends.”
She crossed her arms. “Oh, really?”
His mouth tightened, but he didn’t say anything about her rudeness. Gods didn’t take sarcasm well most of the time. “Yes. His death negates my deal with him, an agreement bound by an unbreakable oath. Now I am no longer beholden by my word, and I can release your spring.”
Her arms dropped to her side even as her mouth dropped open. “What do you mean by release it?”
“You assumed it buried and gone, but it’s simply deep underground. I can raise it to the surface again.”
“You’re saying I can…” She swallowed. “I can go home?”
After ages without it, hope was no longer an emotion she attached to her life’s purpose as a nymph.
She glanced at Castor but encountered a stony expression. He was keeping his thoughts close. She pulled her gaze back to the god standing before her.
“Yes. Would you like that?”
She was tempted to roll her eyes at the fatherly tone to his voice and patronizing expression on his face. He thought he was doing her a favor. After all this time? Gods. They never changed.
She considered his question. Would she like that? Up until a year ago, she had been desperate for her spring. But now…
Another glance at Castor told her nothing. I guess that tells me everything. She turned back to Poseidon, her gaze steady, which was more than she could say for her shaking hands. “Yes. I would like you to
bring my spring back.”
He inclined his head. “Consider it done.” He paused expectantly.
“If you’re waiting for me to thank you, you’ll be waiting centuries. That’s how long it’s taken you to put this right.”
His eyebrows drew low over his eyes, but she tipped her chin and stared him down. Eventually, he turned to Zeus. “I’ll wait for you by the elevators.”
That’s right, asshole. Run away. She glared after his departing back before turning to Zeus. “I assume I have you to thank for this?”
He crossed the room and took her hands in his. “I may have suggested my brother consider this action.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank my son.”
Her heart sank at the realization that Castor was trying to get rid of her. “I will.”
Zeus studied her, those sharp eyes taking in every nuance of her appearance. “I can see the appeal.”
Rather than worry she had yet another god on her tail, she could tell he meant it as an impartial observation. “Thank you.”
“You’ve been good for Castor. I thank you.”
She glanced between the two men with wide eyes. “All I’ve done is keep his business life organized.”
He shook his head. “You’ve done much more.”
“Father.” A warning note deepened Castor’s voice.
Leia didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
Zeus tipped his head. “After my brother releases your spring, you still have a choice, you know.”
“I know.” She did. She’d lived without her spring this long; she was fully aware what her options were.
He searched her eyes. What he found there must’ve pleased him because he gave a satisfied nod. Then he drew her forward and kissed both her cheeks. “Castor is not made of steel, though he’d like you to believe he is,” he murmured in her ear.
She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with that comment, but she also felt the truth behind the words. “I know that, too.”
He gave her a warm smile. “I believe you do.”
He turned and gave Castor a wave, receiving one in return. “Make good choices,” he called over his shoulder as he sailed out of the room.
Leia swung around to gaze at Castor, who stared right back. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for that.”
He shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.”
She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she clasped them in front of her. Why was he being distant?
She waved at the door. “I’ll get back to work.”
He moved around his desk, sat, and turned his attention to his computer, effectively dismissing her. “When should I expect your resignation?”
She paused at the doorway. She couldn’t turn to face him, certain he’d see the devastation written on her face. He truly didn’t want her. Granted, she shouldn’t be surprised since they’d never discussed anything beyond a temporary attraction. However, after what he’d said in the glen before Kaios had appeared…apparently, she still had the capacity to hope in vain.
“I’ll call Brimstone today and have my official letter to you before I leave.”
She closed the door behind her with a click. On unsteady legs, she crossed the office to her desk. She sat, her gaze on her black computer screen, not really seeing it, too preoccupied trying to keep her tears at bay.
Who knew when she finally got her wish to return to her spring granted, she’d be reluctant to go?
After several minutes, when she felt more in control, she picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. “Hello, Delilah…”
Chapter Eighteen
“Are you a total idiot? Or just blind as the Graeae when Perseus stole their eye?”
Castor checked his watch, noting the late hour. How had she known he was still at work? “Hello, Delilah.”
“Leia is perfect for you. What the hell are you doing replacing her?”
“Poseidon is giving her spring back.”
“I heard.” No give in Delilah’s voice.
“She’s going home.”
“Does she want to?”
He frowned. “Of course she wants to.”
“She said that?”
He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back, his chair creaking a protest. “I heard her talking to Calliadne after the fight. They didn’t know I was there, and she said she wasn’t worthy of me. Because she thinks she’s a failed nymph.”
“So, you arranged to have that failure fixed…” Delilah guessed.
“Yes. And she chose the spring.” Gods that hurt. His heart had been bleeding since. “I have to let her go.”
“Why?”
Delilah wasn’t usually this dense. “She’s been lost without her spring for over a millennium.”
“Until recently, I would’ve agreed with you.”
He scowled, getting tired of the riddles. “What does that mean?”
“It means she’s perfect for you.”
“You said that already, and I agree. She’s been a terrific executive assistant.”
“I’m not talking about the job.” The level of frustration in her voice was so unlike Delilah, who never flapped, that Castor paused.
Hope, that deceptive emotion, sprang to life inside him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve never seen her happier than she has been this last year working for you. Especially right after Tala and Marrok’s mating.”
“But Kaios…”
“Don’t get me wrong. He had her worried, but she was also more alive than she has been in…”
“In?”
“At least as long as I’ve known her, which includes before she lost her spring.”
Castor thought back over the last year. Delilah was right. Leia had changed. When she’d first started with him, she’d been serious and distrustful of him. Over the course of the year, the real Leia had emerged—smart, still mouthy, and strong. Lately, she’d let him in more and more. Right up until today.
He gripped the phone. “Did she tell you why she’s been so happy?”
“I think that’s something you should discuss with Leia herself.”
…
Wrapped up in pajamas and a fleece robe, her hair still wet from a long soak in the tub because she couldn’t be bothered to dry it, Leia plunked down on her sofa and put her feet up on her coffee table. With a little salute, she lifted a glass of red wine, a Christmas gift from Castor she had just opened, and gave a silent tribute to Dionysus. She had to hand it to the pleasure god—wine was good stuff. The full-bodied liquid slid over her tongue and she savored the chocolate and cherry aftertaste.
Closing her eyes, she lay her head back against the comfy cushion of her overstuffed chair and tried to relax away her gods-awful day. Pun absolutely intended.
A loud knock at her door startled her, and she jerked her hand, sloshing a few drops of her wine on her cream-colored cushion. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”
She hopped up and ran to the kitchen, where she wet a rag, then back to the couch where she dabbed at the stain.
Whoever was at the door knocked again. Only louder. She glared at the door and wished whoever it was on a long trip across the river Styx. “Just a second.”
“It’s me.”
She paused mid-dab at the deep, unmistakable rumble of Castor’s voice. What was he doing here? More importantly, she couldn’t take another round with him tonight. She was too emotionally drained.
She slowly went back to working at the stain. “What do you need?” she called.
“Let me in, please.”
She ground her teeth. Rag clenched in her fist, she hopped up and crossed to the door, which she unlocked and opened a crack. By Olympus, he looked good. Edible. She loved it when he rolled back his s
leeves. “I’m not in the best mood right now. Can it wait?”
“No.”
Stupid question anyway. This was Castor. Patience was not his gift.
“Does it have anything to do with my replacement? I talked to Delilah today, and she’ll be at the office tomorrow to get things rolling.”
“I’m not here to talk about your damn job.”
She opened the door wider and put her hands on her hips. “There’s no need to swear at me.”
Rather than answer, Castor stepped inside, invading her space and forcing her to back up. He kicked the door closed and yanked her into his arms. His lips covered hers in a kiss that blasted her senses and chased her questions and exhaustion to the back of her mind.
When he encountered no resistance, Castor framed her face with his hands and the kiss gentled—both reverent and drugging at the same time. Her body came alive beneath his scorching touch. Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled back. His blue eyes were almost navy, eyes she could drown in.
“I can’t let you go.” The words seemed ripped from a dark place within him.
Hope surged, but experience taught her not to trust it. She gazed at him warily. “Why?”
He swallowed. “Because I’m in love with you. And I think you’re in love with me.”
His words stole the breath from her lungs as happiness and relief poured through her like a tidal wave.
He gave her a little shake. “Say something.”
She gave him a broad grin. “Something.”
“Not what I was going for.” While his lips twitched at her teasing, a worry lingered in his gaze she’d never seen before. She didn’t like it.
She slipped her arms up through his and around his neck and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss. “You’re right. I love you, too.”
The shadow in her heart must’ve reflected in her expression, because he didn’t celebrate. “But?”
She swallowed. “I thought you’d shut out love for good after your wife.” There. She’d said it.
“Ah.” He smoothed the hair back from her face and ran a tender finger down her cheek. “I thought I had, too. But I’ve never felt for anyone what I do for you. It borders on irrational. I’ve been waiting thousands of years to find a love like this.”
